


Pretty Soon I'll Be Coming Home

by AdamantSteve



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, 69 (Sex Position), Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Bondage, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Dom Clint, Dominance/submission, First Time, Gags, Gender Roleplay, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Negotiation, Leather Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Medical Play, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Rimming, Roleplay, Sex Toys, Sex at work, Spanking, Sub Phil, and I will add to it with each new chapter, body fluids, bottom!Clint Barton, bottom!Phil coulson, this list of tags will get long, top!Clint, top!phil, trapeze porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 05:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 9,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/pseuds/AdamantSteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>30 (porn) prompts, ten minutes (twenty in some cases) spent on each.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anal Sex

**Author's Note:**

> These are all set in the same universe.  
> Additional warnings and tags will be added as I post each chapter :)
> 
> The title is from a pretty ok pop song called 30 Days by The Saturdays.  
> I'm impatient so I'll probably post these in less than 30 days since they're all written already.
> 
> Beta read by Dunicha.

“Tight,” Phil says, a little mournfully considering, like he’s still missing Clint after a month and a half away, yearning for the lost time as if Clint’s body has forgotten the places that Phil likes to be. 

“Feels good though,” Clint replies, arching his back and sticking out his ass just a little more for Phil’s expert attention. “Missed you.”

Phil bends to press a kiss to one of the dimples in Clint’s back, resting his head there for a moment, savouring the pleasurable sense of being where he’s meant to be at last, even if it’s Clint who’s been away. 

“C’mon,” Clint whines eventually, squeezing himself around Phil’s fingers. “Don’t make me beg.”

Phil growls, because Clint begging is a performance and a half, but he can’t wait any longer, reaching for a condom before his hand gets grabbed by Clint. “Phil. Baby. _Daddy_...” He looks at him imploringly. “I haven’t done anything, no fucking, no cuts, no blood borne diseases, nothing. And I _know_ you haven’t. C’mon, the Physical test’ll be back tomorrow.”

Phil yanks his arm out of Clint’s grasp and slaps him on the ass. “So I’ll fuck you bareback tomorrow.” 

Clint whines and buries his head in the pillows to whine some more, abruptly stopping when Phil - covered - presses into him slow and sweet, turning the whine into a moan. 


	2. Awkward sex / things that don’t go as planned

“Been thinkin’ about this all day,” says Phil, trailing the tip of his nose up Clint’s neck to ghost around the edge of his ear and make him shiver. Clint clutches at him, hands fisting in the fabric of Phil’s suit jacket, the two of them both too far gone to mind the wrinkled fabric. It had started in the morning, breathlessly humping against each other in Phil’s office like dogs in heat til Fury had knocked on the door and pretended not to know what they were doing. They were supposed to have rules about these things, but Phil was wearing the tie Clint had bought him and how was he supposed to do anything BUT rut against his leg? 

The rest of the day Clint could barely look at him without feeling himself getting hard, after similar whispered promises of what they’d do to one another as soon as they got home and text messages all the rest of the day, trading positions and acts and some of the filthiest language Clint had ever heard come out of Phil.

Phil covers Clint with the weight of his body, just like he’d said he would, which Clint had eaten up like candy when he sent a text that afternoon, promising to smother him and feed him his cock til he could barely remember his own name. He runs a hand through Clint’s hair to pull his head back and get at the flesh of his neck, and it ought to be hot, getting all the hickeys Phil had promised, but instead...

“Fuck!” Clint cries out, loud and right in Phil’s face. Phil freezes, letting go of Clint’s hair.

“What? What did I do?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Clint replies, wincing as Phil rolls off of him. “I don’t know what...” He tries to roll his neck and winces again. “I got a crick in my neck.” 

“Oh.” Phil looks so disappointed, which is the worst thing of all. 

“Keep going,” Clint tries, but Phil’s face instantly changes, looking at him with all the love and concern in the world that he surely doesn’t deserve. He heaves a sigh as he prods Clint onto his front. “Tell me where,” he says, reaching into the nightstand for some massage oil.


	3. Bodily fluids

Clint cries out when he comes, Phil leaning back to aid Clint in the jerky choreography of coming all over his chest. Phil’s own cock is in his hand, feverishly moving, jerking himself off til the sensation of being so marked by his mate fills him up completely. Coming with a gasp and hard jolt forward, Clint catches him to rest Phil’s head against his thigh. 

They stay like that, propping one another up for a minute til they’ve both stopped panting. Clint hauls Phil onto his feet before kissing him deeply, avoiding the mess on his chest. They’re both half dressed, on the way to work when Phil caught a glimpse of Clint’s ass as he started putting his pants on and had to get his hands on it. And then one thing led to another...

Clint buries his nose in Phil’s neck, breathes in the smell of Phil’s freshly washed hair and his toothpaste, a faint hint of antiperspirant and shaving cream that go most of the way to covering the low, earthy scent of his own cum. 

“Too late to take another shower,” Phil murmurs. Clint bends down to pick up the pajama pants that conveniently became a landing pad for Phil’s own orgasm, folding it carefully so he can use a clean side to wipe Phil’s chest. Phil holds his arms out of the way. “Sorry,” Clint says, only half apologetically since he can’t help but enjoy having such an animalistic trace of himself on Phil even if it is only til he washes it off.

Phil shrugs and reaches for his shirt, pulling it on and buttoning it up over his still slightly damp chest. Clint’s cock tries to get back in the game and he actually makes a strangled sound. “You’re gonna... with... you have meetings all day.” 

Phil grins, and for all he tells Clint he has a dirty smile, his own is utter filth when he wants it to be. “I’m not gonna brush my teeth again, either.”


	4. Bondage

Clint’s on his back, legs apart, tied to bedposts that were chosen with exactly this in mind. Right there in the showroom, Clint had wondered how much the saleswoman suspected, wondered how many kinky assholes like them had oh so subtly tested the strength of the slats and the posts and what not. She had looked between the two of them and afterwards Phil wouldn’t hear it, but Clint was sure she had a look in her eye that said she _knew_. But then again, wasn’t this something lots of people did? Probably old hat to a bed salesperson.

His wrists are tied to posts either side of the head of the bed, silky ropes that aren’t silky enough to slide out of, not after being tied by ex-boyscout Phil Coulson anyway. He could probably get out, if there was an emergency or he really desperately had to pee, but he’s not going to try, and he’d be disappointed if he could, anyway.

Phil’s probably in the line at Starbucks still, or at the grocery store, eking out the time that he leaves Clint here, tied up and plugged, waiting, waiting, waiting. He’s probably ordering himself a coffee to have right there, sitting at a table pretending not to be getting hard again at the thought of Clint here, waiting til he can get it up again properly. This makes it much more fun: Phil being able to take his time and be methodical over his weekend errands, squeezing courgettes at the farmers market or whatever the fuck he does, and Clint not having to do any of it. The remote control for the TV is in his hand, still playing the porn Clint will pretend he left on the whole time.

He turns it on to Cartoon Network and gets as comfortable as he can, keeping an ear out for his master’s return. 


	5. Nipple Play

"Shit!" cries Phil, arching his back. Clint's laugh is a gruff sound, a clue that he’s as turned on as Phil, even though, fully dressed and most certainly not tied to anything, he’s not nearly at Phil's mercy as much as Phil is at his.

He smooths the pad of his thumb over Phil's other nipple and then, keeping eye contact all the way there, positions his mouth over it instead. Phil’s gone enough already that just the sight of Clint's mouth so close to his teased, over sensitive nipple has him whimpering, rocking his body in search of friction on his achingly hard cock at the same time as shaking his head in a plea for it to stop. 

Clint smirks and lowers his mouth, sucking the hard bud of flesh into his mouth to make Phil cry out even before using his teeth to nip at it. Still looking up into Phil's eyes he moves a hand to tease the other before pinching it hard enough to make Phil sob.

Finally, pulling his mouth away from Phil's chest, Clint replaces it with fingers so he can pinch both nipples as he surges up to meet Phil's mouth with his own, kissing the panting cries away as he finally lets him have enough friction against the seam of his jeans to come with a muffled whimper after mere moments of fevered rutting, shaking apart into a quivering mess.


	6. Corsets

“It’s kinda hot,” Clint decides, running his hands around Phil’s waist, slightly cinched in compared to how it normally feels under his hands. Phil snuffs through his nose dismissively as though he thinks Clint’s lying about the, well, it’s called a girdle, but he can’t bear to call it that since it sounds so Captain Kirk, but Clint chases his eyes so he’ll meet his gaze. “It is,” he promises, running his fingers around the top edge, carefully avoiding the bruised ribs and the healed scars he knows still don’t feel so good. “So close to your skin, tight. It’s lucky.”

Phil snorts again but kisses back when Clint kisses him, and Clint can’t stop running his hands up and down the smooth sides of the thing, all smooth fabric that seems silkier than he’d imagine something from SHIELD medical would be. 

“I have to keep it on for a whole month,” Phil grouses, resting his head on Clint’s shoulder when he moves in to kiss his neck. Clint’s so cheerful about these things when it comes to Phil, the very opposite of his usual attitude to anything even smelling like medical, just relentlessly glad he’s alive and Going To Be OK. 

“Good,” he replies, moving down to press soft kisses against the boning down the front of it. “And then you’ll be all better.” 


	7. Creative Sexual Positions

Clint gets in position first, legs hooked over the trapeze, thin boxer shorts taut across his burgeoning erection already. He hangs there, upside down, the whole thing at the precise height it needs to be. He’s grinning when he makes grabby hands for Phil to come closer, accepting the heavy kiss Phil bends down to give him. When he straightens up his mouth is at the exact position Clint worked it out to be, and he rubs his cheek over the warmth of Clint’s cock. “Thought about doing this since I first figured out what my dick was for,” Clint tells Phil’s own crotch, using his hands to anchor himself on Phil’s hips and press his own face between them. 

Phil makes a little whining sound, cause he’s always had a bit of a thing for Clint’s circus schtick, all his stories about his first blowjob and the first time he made out with a townie boy, even if he’s loathe to admit it cause he thinks it's weird to have a crush on the adolescent version of his now-boyfriend. He’s hard as a rock already, and as much as they’ve played this as a fantasy of Clint’s, he knows it’s ticking more than a few boxes of Phil’s. 

69 is a complicated position at the best of times, cause it’s hard to concentrate on fulfilling your end of the bargain when you’re getting blown yourself, but Phil’s great at everything always, and soon enough the motion of the trapeze and both of their tongues and mouths and lips has them squirming in a circle of mindless ecstasy. Clint stops what he’s doing when he comes, and it’s a little bit of an unintended surprise to come so fast, but it’s all so good he can’t bring himself to mind too much. He still has Phil’s cock in his mouth when he comes, which is his favourite thing to have in his mouth when he’s coming, and it’s perfectly easy to go back to it, Phil easily moving him as he shakes and comes apart, leaning his own weight on Clint when his legs can’t take it anymore.


	8. Dominance/submission

Phil’s on his knees in front of Clint, both of them far too dressed, considering, but Clint’s nothing if not accommodating, so when he came in and put himself at Clint’s feet, asking to be slapped across the face, he was happy to help him out.

One cheek is already red and warm, Phil’s eyes are watery and his breath is catching and fast. The flesh of his hard cock is a shock of pink against the dark of his suit, still on but for his loosened tie. Even his belt is still on, though his hands are clasped behind him as though they’re bound with it. 

They’ll talk about it later, whatever it is, the thing that’s set Phil off on this need for flagellation, but for now, all Clint does is ask if Phil wants more and when he says yes please, lays another on him. They’re hard, and they snap Phil’s neck around each time, the swivel back growing longer til he won’t keep coming back , he’ll just keel himself forward into Clint’s crotch, shivering and falling apart. Clint will hold onto him as long as he needs, letting him stay down with his warm presence there for him. 

Phil will wonder aloud, later, how Clint can do it, ask how he’s so ok with just doing as Phil asks when it’s so different the other way round, with checks and lists and goddamn contracts for Phil to feel sure that it’s all perfectly arranged and planned out, but Clint doesn’t have an answer for that. When Phil asks for something, Clint will give it to him if he can, and he’s perfectly capable of slapping him a few dozen times if that’s what he wants. But there’s more to it, and it won’t be today that they go into it, but there’s something about having Phil on his knees, looking up at him with so much trust in his eyes, asking him for this and then being so goddamn grateful to get it. Something about that isn’t a hardship at all.


	9. Double penetration

As Phil twists his wrist just so, the dildo slides ever further in, til the base sits against Clint’s skin. He holds it steady while Clint moves himself, fucking his own ass, reaming himself open as quick as he can. “We’re not in a rush,” Phil reminds him, even as he’s stroking his own cock, keeping himself hard for when Clint tells him he’s ready. Phil’s thicker than the dildo but softer; even as turned on as he is, he’s no match for the solidity of silicone. Clint shifts and sits up, pulling the dildo out of Phil’s grip as he leans back to catch him in a heated kiss. “C’mon, do it,” he says, eyes and voice full of wanton filthiness. 

“Get on your back,” Phil replies, ranging over him once he’s moved, biting at Clint’s neck at the same time as nudging the base of the dildo that’s still inside him with his knee. He pulls it out and replaces it with his own dick, slicked up and easily taken, though it’s still snug, and he says as much, tells Clint there’s no way he can take two cocks in his tight little ass, no way he’s that much of a slut. 

“Fuck you,” he hisses, scratching nails down the flesh of Phil’s back. “I can too.” 

Phil sticks his fingers inside Clint next to his cock, one at first and then two, pulling at the muscle til it softens and relents, letting them slide back and forth til Clint nudges at the small of Phil’s back with his heel. And then he’s taking it, the too-peach colour of the fake dick striking against the less lurid tones of their real skin. Phil runs fingers around the tautness of Clint’s hole where he’s so stretched, fucking him slow til he pulls everything free to switch over, the hard base of the thing rocking against Phil’s balls with every stroke. 

“Take a picture,” Clint begs, mindless with it, head nodding from side to side as he’s overcome with sensation. “I wanna see.” 


	10. Explaining a kink to their partner

Phil shifts in his seat when they’re not-really watching TV one day, and Clint’s attention is drawn from the net arrow he’s carefully folding back into it’s place on the coffee table to what Phil’s watching. 

“The Village People? Really?” 

Phil looks at him in surprise, and flushes, looking back down to his crossword and chuckling to himself.

“Which one?” 

Phil pulls a face and glances back at the TV. “The cop.” 

“You’re such a leather fiend,” Clint says, leaning over enough to nudge his shoulder. “You want me to get one of the little hats? Maybe a baton?” He’s kidding, but the look Phil sends his way makes his eyebrows rise. “Oh.”

Phil takes a deep breath. “It’s not the cop thing so much. It’s. I don’t know. It’s like... you know Jessica Rabbit?” Clint nods and starts to smile, like maybe he gets it already. “And she’s, you know, this extreme version of femininity and sexiness....” Clint clicks the casing of the arrow into place and puts it down, turning so he’s closer to Phil, slotted around his side with his chin on Phil’s shoulder. “The leather daddy thing was like, this blueprint, this crazy extreme of gayness. Masculinity that’s just so over the top it’s kinda ridiculous...” he runs out of words and looks to Clint with a shrug. “It’s such a cliche.”

Clint shakes his head and kisses him on the forehead. “So? Cliches are good sometimes.” 

The video ends and Abba comes on. “Tell me what else you like about it,” Clint asks. 

Phil looks at him as if to check that he’s not kidding around, and, satisfied, bites his lip before speaking. “It feels good. There’s nothing else quite like it. Hard and smooth and thick, but it’s warm, like a second skin. Tough too. And it looks tough. Looks strong, you know? Rugged.”

“Masculine?”

Phil nods and smiles at him. “It smells good too. And there’s something about it, it’s just... it’s impractical in a lot of ways, too tough and hot, but there’s something in that too. Just,” he sighs and shakes his head in apology. “I can’t really explain it. It’s just this element of homoerotic imagery that  I can’t get enough of. Especially on you.”

Clint nods. Perhaps he gets it after all.


	11. Explaining their relationship to a disapproving third party

It’s not that Mary is a bad person, she’s not, she’s perfectly fine. Great, infact. She’s one of SHIELD’s oldest and longest employees, running the HR unit with an iron fist that even Phil’s afraid of. He’s technically her boss, but you’d never know it, not the way he’s put off having to go get form 45PR-A from her. There’s a reason they’re kept in a locked filing cabinet, the key to which hangs around her neck. She likes to be kept abreast of things, especially the many headaches that tend to come in the wake of a form 45PR-A. Best to scare the bejesus out of anyone seeking the form in the first place. Phil’s not sure how she does it, but Mary singlehandedly makes most agents too scared to formalise any arrangement of the bedroom variety. Even him.

He takes a deep breath and opens the door, and she looks up at him over thick glasses that ought to make her look sweeter, the dumpy grandma schtick she’s so good at fooling new recruits with before ruthlessly slicing through targets with knitting needles and hard candy (seriously). It all serves to make Phil’s dick shrink ever further into his body. 

“I suppose you want this?” she says, holding up the form. Phil swallows and wonders how she could possibly know already. He’s assaulted with all manner of paranoid thoughts, but then she laughs at him and shakes her head. 

“Your young man came by last week.” She raises an eyebrow and pushes a bowl of sweets towards him, his cue to take a seat. “Filled out everything even after I gave him a talking to. You like him?”

Phil swallows again, because it’s a lot to take in, hardly registering the aniseed flavour of the boiled sweet he’s accidentally chosen from the bowl. “Love him,” he answers, trying not to wince at the weird flavour of the candy. 

Mary narrows her eyes at him. “I don’t need to tell you how seriously I don’t want to have to deal with the paperwork that goes along with this, do I?”

“No, M-Mary,” Phil says, stuttering because he almost called her ma’am. He feels like a level one baby agent, getting the fear of god put into him. 

“Did you just call me ma’am?”

“No.”

“Jesus, Phil, get your panties out of your ass. Sign here and here.” She points to tiny X’s and Phil signs his name, briefly taking in a few of the notes Clint made when he filled out the form. “Long term,” makes Phil’s heart leap happily in his chest. He can’t take it all in though, because it’s yanked away and replaced with another form, filled out by Mary herself with Clint’s and her signature on two of the four lines, Phil and Fury’s to be added later. 

“He’s a good kid, Coulson. You make sure you take care of him. I don’t want to use form X-TA2.”


	12. First time they have sex

It’s the worst kind of decision, and it’s somewhere in the back of Phil’s mind, this little voice telling him ‘Really, Phil, I know you want this but you really ought to stop cause this is only going to make things so much worse’ but it’s drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears as Clint starts kissing back; not like the first time, when Phil pulled back and that tiny voice won over, and not like the second time either, when Clint said ‘I can’t’. This time it’s both of them, frantically seeking something they’re sure is in the other. 

It’d be enough for Phil, even if the voice got him to stop after all, one passionate kiss to round off the other two, but then Clint kisses his neck and whispers, ‘Fuck me?’ like he’s not even real, and that’s all Phil needs to hear before he’s pulling at his own clothes and at Clint’s, all these layers of fabric that have no business being where they are. 

Clint’s ready for anything, finding lube and a whole strip of condoms from one of the many pockets of the trousers Phil loves so much, keeping Phil close with kisses and teasing brushes of fingers against his cock while he opens himself up. It shouldn’t be hot, but Phil’s lost to it, lost to all the planes of hard muscle and smooth skin, pale lines of scars over both their bodies as Clint presses him down into the sheets and straddles him, sinking down slow and steady before stopping there for a long moment, looking at Phil hard like he’s finally trapped him, and he has. He so has. 

“Your cock’s in my ass,” Clint says eventually, and Phil’s not sure what to do with his hands, feeling like if he touches Clint he’ll disappear, but then Clint reaches for them anyway to hold onto them, wrapping one around his own cock as he begins to ride Phil’s. 

They find a good rhythm, and Clint’s impossibly perfect, keeping Phil exactly where he wants to be and leaning down to kiss him some more, hot lips that bite at Phil’s as he works himself back and forth, Phil’s hands on his perfect hips and that perfect ass, everything too perfect he knows it can’t possibly be real, til he’s coming with a cry that’s made into a moan by Clint’s mouth, like he’s trying to stop Phil from telling him  how much of a bad idea this is. 


	13. Gags

“You want me to stop?” asks Phil, nosing around Clint’s ear. He strains in his bindings, mumbling something that’s helplessly muffled by the gag in his mouth. “You just have to say so,” Phil drawls, scratching sharp fingernails down Clint’s back before sitting back and watching himself sink inside Clint again. Clint whines behind the gag and Phil slaps his ass hard, another pink mark to add to all the rest. Clint can make it all stop in an instant if he wants to, of course he can. The end of the rope is in his hand, after all. But he doesn’t want it to stop, not ever, not when Phil’s growling how he belongs to him, an unruly possession that won’t be quiet and has to be taught a lesson. A harsh punishment, since they both enjoy the noises Phil can draw out of Clint. All those sounds bottled up inside him, their only release the undignified moans that are stifled by the gag and the drag of Phil’s cock in and out of him, relentlessly teasing. 

It’s good but it’s not enough to come, not yet, not until Phil’s had his fun and flips Clint onto his back to tease him into endless orgasms til he’s coming dry and sobbing almost silently. Phil leans over him again, still thrusting into him, hard. “Just say the word, little boy, and I’ll let you go.”


	14. Genderswap

“You ever miss pussy?” Clint asks one night, the two of them in bed like an old married couple, the kind of couple Clint sometimes imagines them being if the job ever spits them out in one piece. Phil looks over his reading glasses at him. “Not especially. Do you?” 

Clint shrugs. “Not really.” Phil arches an eyebrow. “I miss giving head,” he admits. 

“You give me head all the time.”

Clint grins and bites his lip. “ _Yeah_ I do,” he says, punching Phil’s arm ever so lightly. “It’s not really the same, though. Not so much neck action.” 

Phil hums in agreement but keeps looking at him, eventually smirking as he closes his book and places it on the bedside table. He shifts down the bed to look at Clint face on, leaning in to kiss him just because he can. “So tell me about it.” 

Clint licks his lips and looks like he’s thinking about it. “Let me show you,” he says.

Clint arranges Phil on his back, pajamas off and cock stirring unhelpfully when he sees the telling bulge in Clint’s own boxers. He arranges Phil’s cock so it’s flat against his belly and then licks a stripe up it from the base to the tip before biting his lip again and looking up at Phil. “You’re so wet, baby,” he laughs. Phil gets harder and smiles. “You _make_ me wet,” he replies. 

Clint keeps talking Phil through it, asking how it feels, with Phil telling him how good his pussy feels with Clint’s hot mouth all over it, Clint licking heartily over Phil’s frenulum as if it’s a clit til he’s squirming and quaking beneath him. It doesn’t even take all that long before Phil comes onto his stomach, gasping Clint’s name with his fingers wound into his hair. 

Clint wipes his mouth on Phil’s now ruined pajama shirt, coming up to kiss him. “I didn’t know you were a squirter.”


	15. Getting caught having sex

The tower’s empty; both JARVIS and the security cams say so, at least the residential floors anyhow, with the rest of the team off in LA for some sort of Avenger photocall thing. Clint managed to get out of it by virtue of being Phil’s boyfriend (and some creative excuses from both of them), so it’s only natural that they walk around all day on the 75th floor wearing nothing but their underpants. 

Phil openly ogles Clint as he walks around the place, appreciating how beautiful he is in this new setting, the wide open sky behind him through the huge floor to ceiling windows. “See something you like?” Clint asks, handing Phil some extremely expensive whiskey in an extremely expensive glass. Tony had said they should make themselves at home. 

“Oh I see a lot of things I like,” Phil replies, letting his eyes linger on the bright purple underwear Clint’s wearing before smirking at him and sipping his drink. Clint puts his own glass down on the coffee table before taking Phil’s and sipping it, leaving a ring on the expensive furniture too. He kneels, one knee either side of Phil’s and his hands either side of his shoulders to sit and look at him for a while before moving in to kiss him deeply. It’s so at odds with how they normally are in the space where there’s nary a hand-touch to speak of, the two of them now pushing at each other’s boundaries to see how far they’ll let themselves get in such a usually busy place.

“You wanna fuck on the couch?” Clint asks, cock hard and obvious where it’s rubbing against Phil’s equally eager one. “Yes,” Phil replies immediately, surprising them both. 

They’re still mindlessly rutting away at one another when a familiar whooshing sound comes through the floor (the glass is too tough and soundproof for anything but the loudest of sounds; the landing pad carries much more vibration) and they’re suddenly off the couch, covering themselves with cushions and trying to run out of view. But it’s too late and Tony’s voice booms over the hundreds of tiny speakers about the house. “If a naked man has left a ring on my coffee table, Pepper is going to be very angry!” 


	16. Latex/leather

Parts of Clint’s uniform are leather, and it makes a good deal of sense considering the amount of throwing himself off of rooftops he does, not to mention having to withstand fire, rain, projectiles, explosions, etc. So yes, there are a raft of legitimate reasons Clint wears leather pants at work.

But after a hard day of rolling under buildings and shooting bad guys, most agents take their uniforms off before they go home. Clint, however, has other arrangements.

Phil practically vibrates in the car, holding himself back from reaching over the centre console and grabbing Clint’s crotch - not because he’s afraid someone’ll see, but because he’s afraid he won’t be able to stop and there’ll be a hard-to-explain car accident.

They’re barely inside the house when Phil drops to his knees to nose at the front of them, and not for the first time, Clint wonders aloud if it’s him or the pants Phil likes the most. “Both,” he says, “together.” 

Clint lets Phil rub his face all over his thighs, breathing in deeply a smell Clint’s never been able to understand the appeal of. When he lets a hand drop to the back of Phil’s neck, he gets a full body whimper out of him, and it’s all he can do to haul Phil up and push him to the bedroom. 

Even in the bedroom, Clint’s not allowed to take them off, Phil on the floor again and his nimble fingers opening the zip of his fly (but not the button) to carefully get his cock free. “Such a freak,” Clint murmurs fondly, watching Phil kiss and caress his cock and the leather of his pants before enthusiastically getting as much of it into his mouth as he can. He’s all enthusiasm and sloppy technique like this, which Clint can’t find it in himself to mind, turned on as much by Phil’s lost composure as he is by the blowjob itself. 

When he’s satisfied, with Clint’s cum tidily drunk down, Phil will finally let Clint take the pants off and take a damn shower, and he’ll be all business when Clint steps back out, chopping vegetables for dinner in the kitchen.


	17. Masturbation

Clint’s in bed, under the covers like a kid up past his bed time, the small space illuminated by the backlight of his phone as he promises Phil it’s fine, that it’s totally cool that he’s whispering even though he’s meant to be on mission mode. Phil’s a sap, and he relents, of course, dripping honeyed words into Clint’s ear just like he wanted. “Bet you’re hard already,” he says, whispering himself. “Your beautiful cock all alone, no one to look after it, keep it safe.”

“S’really lonely,” Clint admits, and he’s not sure if he’s talking about his sad hard dick or himself stuck out at the ass-end of nowhere. “I bet it is,” Phil murmurs, and Clint almost doesn’t want to ask if he’s hard too, hoping Phil will tell him he is of his own volition.

“You jerking off?” Phil asks, and Clint takes a second to spit into his hand before answering. “Yes. Thinkin’ bout your mouth.” 

“My mouth, huh? Doing what?”

“Sucking my dick. My balls. That thing you do with your tongue on ‘em.”

Phil moan-sighs and Clint involuntarily speeds up his movements. “I miss your taste, Clint,” he tells him. “I miss your smell.”

“Tell me what you’re gonna do when I get back,” Clint asks impatiently, cause he knows what he wants to hear and he’s not even meant to be on the phone at all. It’s weirdly intimate, the flimsy connection they’re sharing over a black expanse of a distance that might as well be a million miles. Connected to each other through their voices, brain to brain.

“Oh I’m gonna do everything,” Phil promises, voice husky, a caught breath. 

“Gonna open me up and fuck me?” Clint asks, voice pathetically hopeful.

“Oh no,” Phil replies slowly. “No, you’re going to open yourself up, and I’m going to watch.”

Clint stifles a moan and speeds up his movement, close to the edge. Phil continues: “When you’re begging, crying out for my cock, then I’ll fuck you, make up for all the time you’ve been away.” 

Clint comes with a muffled sob as he presses his face into his pillow, and Phil softly bids him sweet dreams.


	18. Medical play

Where Clint got the white coat from, Phil never does find out, though if it wasn’t pinched off of the long suffering labtechs it was probably snuck out from Dr Banner’s labs at the tower, and that thought leads onto all sorts of worrying thoughts about Stark creepily knowing too much about their sex life. 

But Phil isn’t thinking about that right now, he’s focused on the glasses Clint’s wearing and the fact that under that white coat there doesn’t appear to be anything else. 

“Mr Coulson,” he says when Phil comes into the bedroom, right on time after Clint told him to come up in five minutes. “My nurse tells me you’ve been having some issues with stress.” 

Phil had caught onto the game the very moment he’d stepped into the room, so it’s easy enough to smile and reply, “That’s right, Doctor Barton. I’m _very_ stressed right now.”

“Well, I’m a stress relief specialist,” he replies. “If you could show me where the stress tends to manifest itself?” 

Phil hides a smirk and gravely frames his crotch with his hands. “This sort of area?”

“I see I see,” ‘Doctor Barton’ nods. “Well, lets take off your pants and have a look, shall we?”


	19. Oral sex

Clint’s sitting on the couch when Phil walks in, looking around for his special SHIELD pen, the one that’s practically a Swiss army knife. Clint pokes him in the ass with a toe and smirks at him when that foot gets grabbed. “What do you want?” Phil asks, grinning back. It’s the best sort of lazy Sunday, the two of them with nothing much to do but potter around in one another’s space.

“Blowjob,” Clint replies, testing his luck. 

“A blowjob, huh?”

Clint hums and nods speculatively. “Yeah, I think you should totally suck me off on the couch while I watch basketball.” 

Phil lets go of Clint’s foot and comes closer, til Clint can grab a hold of the front of his weird weekend dad-jeans and pull him closer. “And what do I get?”

“The undying gratitude of the United States of America.”

Phil laughs at that. “How so?”

Clint sighs. “I’m a superhero, babe. Saving the world and shit.” He sucks in air through his teeth. “Gotta keep your Avenger happy.” 

Phil shakes his head and Clint thinks he’s going to get a kiss on the forehead (which he’ll scowl at but secretly love) and a ‘Nice try, sweetheart’, but instead, Phil grabs a cushion and throws it to the floor. 


	20. Out-of-character clothing

Clint’s not sure how he manages to be as early for his date with Phil as he is, turning up at his apartment a good two hours early. They’ve only been dating a little while, and its kinda unseemly to be there as early as this but now that he’s here, he’s not sure what he should do. It’d sound weird to say he came and then left, worse if Phil saw him leave and figured he bailed. So he squares his shoulders and rings the bell, readying his ‘I messed up’ face.

Phil opens the door and Clint almost has a stroke. He’s wearing some kind of ratty tshirt with honest to god holes in it, the faint remains of Captain America’s shield picked out in flaky ink in the centre. And he’s wearing cut off denim shorts. Clint stares at Phil’s knees (knees! he’s never properly seen those before!) and then, lower down still, notices the piece de resistance. He thinks he’s actually hallucinating when he sees them. Bright orange crocs.

“You’re here early!” Phil cries, looking more panicked than Clint’s ever in his life seen Phil look. “Is... is something wrong?” 

It takes a minute for Clint to get his mouth working, noticing the bright yellow rubber gloves Phil’s also sporting. “I just. Sorry. I can. I should go?”

“No!” Phil replies, shaking his head and then stepping out of the way to usher Clint in. “I was uh. Cleaning.” 

Clint can’t take his eyes off of the shoes and Phil makes a small sound of defeat, noticing what Clint’s gaze is focussed on. “They’re just. Good. For cleaning and stuff. Washable, you know?”

Clint looks him over and feels like he’s breaking several rules when he leans in to kiss him. “Do they make them in purple?”


	21. Pain/sensation play

Clint’s not sure if he should touch the scar, since they’ve still not talked properly about it yet. He wants to, wants to touch it and caress it and just worship it like the monument it is to Phil’s being alive. But he barely sees it since Phil doesn’t walk around shirtless so much these days, not like he used to. He sleeps in a shirt and even when Clint slips into the shower with him there’s a towel over his shoulder to keep the water from hitting it too hard. “Sensitive,” he mumbles, not meeting Clint’s eye. 

Clint’s good at leaving things unmentioned, though he doesn’t like it, but he recognises when someone really doesn’t want to talk about something and lets it be. But one day, they’re just laying on the bed making out, lazy kisses that might lead somewhere but just as contentedly might not, and Clint forgets himself, running a hand down Phil’s chest like he used to do. Phil tenses and gasps sharply, and Clint pulls back immediately. “Shit, I. Shit sorry. Are you ok?” 

Phil takes a deep breath, not looking at him, before blinking hard and coming back.  “Do it again?” 

This time, Clint uses the lightest touch of his fingers to ghost over where he knows the worst of the scar begins and ends, and Phil whimpers, clutching on to Clint’s sleeve and pulling him in for another hot kiss. “Does it... feel good?” he asks, cause the whimper and the kiss _seemed_ good, but he’s all over the place right now.

“Yeah, it,” Phil swallows and blinks again like he’s having an epiphany. “It’s just really sensitive.”

It takes awhile for Phil to believe, through the softest kisses and gentle drags of his tongue, that Clint doesn’t think it ugly or scary or any of the stupid things in his head. He’s almost sad when it starts to fade.


	22. Public/semi-public sex

It started as a dare, and only kept going because Clint was too stupid to realise Phil was ruthless when it came to dares, no matter how sensible he liked to make himself out to be. Clint dared him he wouldn’t pull out his cock in public, and he’d done it, right under the table at Tony’s wedding, making Clint spill red wine all over the tablecloth when Phil had pulled his hand under there to feel the warm skin of his dick. 

And of course, it couldn’t stop there, since once Phil had done that, Clint felt the need to outdo him, almost getting caught flashing his cock in the glass elevator of the hotel at the city far below. Phil had rolled his eyes and called him an amateur, which was just annoying, though they still went at it like rabbits once they got to their room. 

There had been other moments, a handjob under the table in a corner booth in a diner, far away from everywhere but still scandalous if they had been caught. Clint still maintains that it wasn’t an actual handjob, since he didn’t come til they were back in the car, which just makes Phil roll his eyes some more. 

There’s a lot of fancy restaurants in New York, and they’ve both managed to perfect the ‘clean up as you go’ handjob technique from solitary jerk-off sessions in trees or on rooftops, so they work their way through the Zagat guide and tick them off when they’ve touched cock in each, and it’s so juvenile that Clint can’t believe Phil not only puts up with it, but encourages it. That he’s somehow better at it than Clint, able to eat with one hand, exclaim how excellent the soup is, order food and chat wine with the sommelier while he’s stroking Clint into hardness, it all drives Clint crazy. His legs shake and he pretends to know what the fuck a coquille is and by god, he loves this man.


	23. Rimming

It took a while, and Clint felt an unending hatred towards whoever Phil had been with before him (not that he wanted to know, thanks) that none of them had ever introduced the wonders of rimming to him, but eventually, with rigorous cleaning and douching and an entirely unnecessary wax that Clint felt personally responsible for (though not too bad about since Phil’s ass was gloriously smooth), Phil let Clint lick his asshole.

“What if I fart on you?”

“You’re not gonna fart, oh my god.” 

“But what if I do?”

“Have I ever farted on you?” 

Phil thinks about it for a second, and that’s the kicker with all this: for all his protests, he loves to go to town on Clint’s ass whenever he gets the chance. 

“Not that I can recall.” 

“So shut up and let me introduce you to a world of pleasure. Asshole.” 

“Ha,” Phil said with an eyeroll. 

Phil took a deep breath in preparation, but then Clint ignored his ass in favour of rolling him onto his back and sucking the tip of his dick instead. Then he moved down to his balls, licking and sucking the skin of them before going even further, down underneath them to the crease and the smoothness leading back to the prize. For all Clint’s assurances, it wasn’t a lie that he liked this, and with the smooth glide that Phil’s freshly shorn skin provided it was as good as he’d hoped, especially with the way Phil was panting and shifting his legs up and away for Clint to have better access. 

With a hand wrapped around Phil’s cock, calmly pumping away, Clint slid his tongue down further, further, further til he was gliding it over the hard knot of Phil’s asshole, wetting it thoroughly before inexorably pressing his way inside.


	24. Roleplaying

Clint practically squeaks as he walks, creaky leather pants that are nothing like what he’s used to wearing, and the rest of the get up is, yeah, pretty ridiculous. He has the weird cross-over strap thing, a ring in the middle of his chest and all these buckles and crap. There are little ties around the top of his biceps, thick leather bands around his wrists, and an honest to god leather cap on his head. He feels like kind of an idiot, but he’s seen enough of Phil’s old magazines (seriously, he has actual magazines) to know this is ballpark what he likes. 

Phil’s in the living room, watching a documentary, since it’s a day off and Clint firmly told him he wanted to stay in. He suspects that Phil’s on to him at least slightly, especially since he’s not come looking for him nor asked why he’s been in the bedroom the last twenty minutes.

He takes one last look in the mirror before opening the bedroom door and calling for Phil. The TV turns off and Phil comes in, and maybe he wasn’t onto him afterall, since his jaw practically falls off of his face when he sees Clint. 

Clint stands there, legs apart and his hands on his hips, and they’ve done some of this kind of stuff before but he’s not sure if Phil’s into it or not yet, since he appears to have fritzed out. “Close the door,” he says, and Phil moves like he’s on autopilot, fast and robotic, turning back to him with wide eyes and just falling right into goddamn parade rest. Clint can’t help but smirk that anything could affect Phil Coulson so much. 

He comes over, and still Phil doesn’t move, just standing there stock still while Clint gets nearer. “Do you like it?” Clint asks, which isn’t quite what he’d meant to do, he’d meant to go all ‘I’m the boss’, but honestly he’s a little thrown by Phil’s reaction. Phil’s eyes look everywhere, the hat, the harness, the weird little bicep strings, and his mouth is still open when he nods. “Do you wanna suck my dick?” Clint asks, and Phil whimpers as he nods again, gracefully sliding to his knees.


	25. Sensory deprivation

"Blindfold me," Phil says one night, when they've done with things in Arizona and have another night in a hotel to just fuck and eat room service. They've been making out for the last twenty minutes and palming one anothers cocks. "Use one of my ties." 

Clint hops off the bed and looks through Phil's bag, finding a tie he knows Tony gave him, figures he won't mind if it gets a little crumpled. He ties it around Phil's head inexpertly, with Phil watching him warmly when he reties it a couple of times, and then he kisses Phil softly on the mouth. Clint's happy to do as Phil tells him, but he just curls his fingers into Clint's hair to direct his mouth where he wants it, over his neck and down more, to a nipple. Clint tips him back onto the bed and keeps going, kissing down Phil's belly til he's nosing over pubic hair. 

"What do you want?" Clint asks, blowing gently on the wet head of Phil's cock, hard and twitching against his belly. "More," Phil breathes. "It's all so good." 


	26. Sex at work

“You know,” Clint says, undoing one of the ‘too many, far far too many’ buckles on his boots, “people know we fuck in here.” 

Phil licks his lips and yanks at what he can of Clint’s trousers, getting his hands underneath to catch the globes of his ass in his hands. “Don’t care.” 

“They all think I come in here to seduce you,” Clint continues. “They think that _I’m_ the slut.” 

“You are,” Phil replies, ghosting his lips over the back of Clint’s neck as he moves on to the other shoe.

Clint straightens when that gone and catches Phil in a deep, filthy kiss. “ _You_ are.” 

Phil growls at him and pushes at his pants impatiently til Clint manages to get them off, pushing him over the desk and immediately pressing cold fingers to his ass. “Jesus, Phil!” Clint cries, relaxing fast under Phil’s careful (if speedy) preparations. They both have work to do, but it’s a while before Phil’s satisfied, spreading Clint’s legs wide (hence getting the pants all the way off) before grinding into him deep.

“You like that?” Phil asks, holding on to the neck of Clint’s shirt like he’s going anywhere. It’s filthy and possessive, and Clint rubs himself against the edge of the desk for the vague friction it gives. “Getting fucked over your boss’s desk?” 

“Phil.” 

“ _Sir_ ,” he reminds him, and grabs Clint’s cock a little roughly, but it’s all the better for it. 

“Shit, _Sir_.”

“Tell me.”

“C’mon, give it to me. Fuck my ass, make me come right on the wood. Make me lick you up after,” he’s babbling, cause he’s so close to the edge now that Phil’s hand is underneath him, giving him something to fuck into as he pounds into Clint. Phil is just as incoherent, shuddering on top as he empties himself inside him. He’ll send Clint out with his cum leaking out of him after, and it’s that thought, the little tap on the ass he’ll give him like he’s some 1960s secretary that has Clint coming, moaning into the hand he’s clamped over his own mouth to keep the noise down.


	27. Sex toys

“Smells weird,” Clint grouses, screwing up his face as he takes another long sniff of the brand new dildo. Phil doesn’t disagree; it’s not unpleasant but there is a smell all the same, the solid smell of plastic and latex and whatever else the thing is made of. He takes it from Clint’s hand and feels it, smooth rubbery skin with wrinkles and it’s own tight little ballsack, a suction cup of sorts on the base, all in peachy latex that smells aggressively like New Car. 

“I’m sure the smell will wear off,” he says, turning it over in his hands curiously. Clint reaches for it again and Phil holds it out for him, but gets pulled down with it when Clint grabs his wrist instead, landing next to him to be kissed heartily. 

“It’s kind of pretty, for a dick,” Clint says once they’ve laid back, running his fingers up and down it, experimentally circling the shaft with a loop of his fingers.

“Prettier than mine?” Phil asks, pretending to pout. 

Clint grins and shut him up with another kiss. “Never.”

“So,” Phil says, once the two of them have arranged Clint on his back with Phil on top of him, the dildo half forgotten in Clint’s grip to the side, “What are you and our new friend going to get up to while I’m away?” 

Clint shrugs and purses his lips as if he’s really thinking about it. “Take him to dinner, catch a movie,” he grins when Phil leans down to kiss him some more. “See if I get lucky.”


	28. Spanking

“Please sir, another,” Phil gasps. Clint’s hand is cruel and slow, stroking its way over Phil’s shivering skin before delivering another blow to the same cheek. “Thank you sir,” a pause as he draws a shaky breath, “another?” 

“Such a naughty boy,” Clint admonishes, shaking his head unseen by Phil. He can feel how hard Phil is since his cock is pressed into his thigh, but that’s not any of his concern right now. 

“Yes, sir. Very naughty. And, and I, I need to be punished.” 

“Uh huh,” Clint agrees, slapping further down on Phil’s flank this time. “Tell me what you did.” 

That makes Phil struggle most of all, more than the slaps or the teasing of light fingers over pink skin. “Home... late... every night this week.”

Clint doesn’t care. Well, he cares, if he had his way Phil would never be home late, he’d never even _leave_ home, but he understands the job and he understands Phil. This is all Phil though, the need for Clint’s forgiveness to be wrought by skin on skin, a penance to be paid. It’s equally as much about Phil having the week slapped out of him, slipping out of Agent Coulson and into something slightly different, beholden to himself and Clint rather than endless reams of paper.

“Will you do it again?” Clint asks, a dry finger trailing haltingly between Phil’s cheeks.

“I’ll try not to, sir,” he replies, bracing for another strike that doesn’t come until he stops clenching against it. 

“You had better try,” Clint tells him, letting his hand rest on Phil’s back and leaning down to kiss the back of his neck.


	29. Threesome/group sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: there is no actual third party involved in this 'threesome'.

There’s only so many places the dildo will actually stick, and it becomes a factor in their re-appointing of the bedroom when Phil decides on a polished wood bedstead, a four-poster thing that’s too ostentatious for either of them. But the whole thing is sturdy, no creaking bedsprings or shaky frame to knock against the wall, and the posts make the most excellent places for restraints. The dildo sticks neatly on them wherever it’s put, suction cup easily holding it ready to be used, whatever height they want it to be. 

Tonight,  Clint’s on the floor, rocking back and forth on all fours against one leg of the bed, the dildo sliding in and out of his ass. 

Phil stands and watches him, lazily stroking his own cock at the sight before kneeling down to tease Clint with just how hard he is. They look at each other, eyelids drooping, both in an echo chamber of arousal, Phil being turned on by Clint being turned on by Phil. It was Clint’s idea, the first time they did it like this, but it’s Phil who gets to call the shots. He’s hard, and he knows Clint wants him in his mouth, cause for all he jokes about it, he really does love sucking cock. But he’s not allowed to open his mouth and chase it, as good as it’ll feel, because Phil wants to undo him a little more first.

“Who is it, baby?” he asks, rubbing pre-come onto Clint’s lips. “Who’s fucking you tonight?” 

“You,” he answers before licking his lips. “Both ends,” 

Phil shivers and his cock slides across Clint’s cheek as he thrusts himself back and then forward again. Clint likes it more this way, it’s easier to imagine the cock in his ass is real; sucking a lifeless approximation of a cock is less easy to believe in. He focuses on Phil’s cock, level with his mouth. He puts Phil in mind of an obedient dog, presented with the most alluring piece of meat but dutifully waiting for permission. He turns his eyes up to Phil and keeps fucking himself slowly, and Phil finally relents, threading fingers into his hair and saying, “Suck.” 


	30. Voyeurism

Phil walks into his and Clint’s apartment after a too-long debrief, a bag slung over one aching shoulder. As soon as he opens the door he feels the tension in his back begin to unfurl, the familiar smell of Home settling something deep within him. Clint’s nowhere to be seen, but the TV is on and there are clothes making a trail in the direction of the shower, so, letting his bag slip silently to the floor by the door and easing the knot in his tie loose, Phil quietly tiptoes to the bathroom. 

The door is ajar, the rushing sound of water and Clint’s voice singing softly drifting through the crack along with puffs of steam. Phil grins to himself and slips out of his clothes as quickly as possible, leaving them draped over the chair in their bedroom before gingerly sneaking back to the bathroom door and pushing it gently open.

He’d expected Clint to see him instantly, grin the kind of grin that always seemed to be reserved for their first meeting post-mission, happiness mixed with no small degree of relief. But his eyes are closed and his back is half turned anyway, one hand braced against the wall of the shower and the other...

Phil stifles a pleased sigh and absentmindedly moves his hand to his own crotch when he sees where Clint’s other hand is, the way his arm’s moving and his hips are softly canting in time with the movement. He decides to call out, tell Clint he’s there, but the words die in his throat as Clint sighs Phil’s name to himself, barely audible over the sound of the water. His hips speed up til he’s practically fucking his fist, and Phil wants to say something, sneak up behind him and surprise him with an extra hand, though that’s a silly thought since sneaking up behind any trained SHIELD agent is a poor decision, let alone Clint Barton. So he watches instead, lets the sound and the sight wash over him as his cock grows ever harder, til he’s moving his own hand without even thinking about it, mirroring Clint’s movements without realising.

A louder sigh of Phil’s name has Clint coming, invisible whiteness in the rush of the water, swiftly washed away. He stretches his back and turns, and Phil suddenly feels like such a pervert, standing there unannounced watching Clint jerk off, but Clint shines that grin at him and it’s all forgotten. 

“Phil!” he says again, but louder and happier, water pummelling his hair onto his face. “You been standing there the whole time?” 

“Long enough,” he replies, suddenly embarrassed at the state of himself. 

Clint beams at him, taking a good long look at the state of Phil where he’s trying to cover himself. “I can tell. That a present for me?”


End file.
